Put new triple A batterys into the AM/FM strapped to my handlebar. County trucks sanded hills and stops in the wee hours. But the snow line settled up on the shoulders of the valley and the bottom's just getting a slush snow mist.

Chicken Dinner Rd.

As the Valley narrows, I ride on the remnants of an alluvial fan washed out from from the Great Bonneville Flood, just 15,000 years ago. Great floods leave great stones, dropped after traveling hundreds of miles, but not smooth and eon worn like river stone.

Map rock is one of these boulders, come to rest on the bank of the Snake , across from greening hot springs that draw winter game.

The rock has natural steps on the up-hill side. Use of my best duffer-shuffle sets me atop map rock eating a tangerine. Map Rock is one of the oldest maps in North America. Along with the likeness of sheep, elk, deer, and pronghorn antelope is a giant three-toed sloth, extinct from about 8000 BC.

My bent fingers are cold and stiff as I wave to light traffic. I'll leave the peelings for the birds and head home through the picturesque vineyards and orchards of Sunnyslope. A cold, wet mourning on a bike beats puttering around the house or doing chores any time.

Hard freeze with the wind rattling the upstairs last night. The grand-baby twins awoke with pink noses. Furnace needs parts. My morning ride up valley was atilt, shoulder to the wind and the ride home a quiet glide.

Riding in for my mileage check today it occurred to me people were looking at me funny, like "Look at that duff wearing his balls on his forehead, where his brains should be." Only racked up 300 miles, what with Christmas and all.

Well another Christmas past and Santa still refused to bring me a garage.

Those sheep look to have been shorn only a few weeks previous; it seems late when there's snow in the offing. Do you have any idea why they shear so late in your parts?

I come from New Zealand, where we do have a the odd flock of sheep, and I have shorn a few in my time!

Mostly we shear near the beginning of summer, and in some parts we shear a second time early in autumn. In some parts of the country farmers shear just before lambing (late winter), using a "cover" of "snow" comb, to leave equivalent to about two weeks growth of wool on the ewes. It is enough to protect the ewes in the event of snow. However, the dopy things are more inclined to seek sheltered spots to lamb, so improving the survival rate of their offspring.

Habibi Rocks-- Not many of the old wooden shepard wagons left. Yep, Gypsy wagon roots. When grandpa farmed here most shepards were Basque, now Equatorian. I didn't know I was a sheep eater until I used my meal ticket from the Armed Forces Recruiting Center in LA (1969). Moving down the chow line I smelled something good. My first mutton. The other guy at the table where I sat wrinkled his nose and moved off. Glad you're enjoying my thread.

Aj Mick-- I too noticed these woollies seemed a bit late to fall shearing. We don't get much snow here in the valley. It always looked like back breaking work to me.

Ten days out of the saddle. Last year the longest stretch was eight. Doesn't look like I'll pull off a planed ride to Boise this morning. Weatherman says I'll be able to shake off these housebound blues tomorrow.